


Arthlas Deleted Scenes

by herbailiwick



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Drabble Collection, Episode Related, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: A drabble per episode, if I can manage it. First Person POV is Douglas or Arthur, depending on the chapter.
Relationships: Douglas Richardson/Arthur Shappey
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Abu Dhabi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never let your cat scratches get infected.

“Are you going to let me see to that?” I asked as I approached.

“That what?” I gestured to the scratches. “Oh!” Arthur raised a hand to it. “I suppose I should. I haven’t seen it. Is it very bad?”

“It certainly adds character to your face. Come.” He followed easily, and sat when I gestured for him to do so. He waited for me to get the first aid kit out.

“Wow. Your hands are so steady, Douglas,” he said, quieter than usual. I shifted my gaze from my work to make eye-contact, and we both held it. 

“I suppose they are,” I acknowledged.

“Medical school. I remember.”

“Well, I’ve set you right now,” I told him after a long minute.

“Thank you, Douglas.” He flashed a grin. I packed up the kit. I pushed the lingering from my mind.


	2. Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two sides of the Toblerone bar have different letters.

Arthur and I are sitting across the tiny between-chairs table in the terminal while Martin is being dealt with and Carolyn tries to help. 

“B-E-R-N. You know. Like the capital of Switzerland.”

“I agree with you. Spelled right and everything.” Which is a bit impressive, considering. “My side doesn’t say BERN, however,” I point out.

“Oh, does it spell NREB?” he says with interest,

I shake my head. “Rearranging them a bit, all I can spell is...BONE.“

Arthur leans toward me over the table, in my personal space, to see. “Oh! Right.”

That, or ONE. There’s such a thing as liking wordplay too much. 

Arthur’s handing me pieces of Toblerone, which are piling up a bit as I’m trying to savor it. “That’ll probably do it, chap,” I say. 

I eat the B. I don’t know if ONE sounds any better.

Helena respects what I do. She’s fine with who I am. She thinks I’m brilliant, as does Arthur. 

Everyone thinks I’m brilliant. 

And I’m stuck on some immature pun.

Somehow, he smears a bit of chocolate by the side of his mouth. I shouldn’t notice it the way I do.


	3. Cremona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes restaurants keep dried pasta in jars, but that's really kind of boring, isn't it?

“Yes, I know what decorative means, Mum,” I chuckle. “But it’s kind of sad there in that bottle. It’s pasta. That’s not what pasta should do.” I snatch it up when no one’s looking because I can be very sneaky.   


I sit back down with my friends at the table. 

“Must you?”  


“Must he what?” Douglas asks with interest, and maybe not just cause it gets everyone’s ire away from him for all his scheming.   


Mum had some entertainment planned that fell through. I could do some entertaining. “Pasta art.” Obviously. I spread the contents of the bottle out on the table. “I have the wheels. There’s still the curlicues, if you like, Martin.”

“What on earth do I want with some dried pasta?”  


I started working quickly. 

“Is that...one of us? No, wait,” Douglas murmured.   


I kept going, and his attention was all on the little wheels. 

“Snoopadoop,” he said with finality.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Sure is.” I moved some of the wheels toward him, messing up her picture. “Your turn now.”

“Arthur, I’m not going to—“ 

But, at the look on Mum’s face, he did. Can’t say I minded why. 

“Miss Macaulay,” I said easily. 

It took him a second, eyeing me suspiciously, to say, “Yes.” 

“It’s not macaroni,” I admitted, “But I’d know that face anywhere.”  



	4. Douz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes one way of being inappropriate is a bit easier to accept than another.

“Oh, yeah?” I breathed. Tipsy, mostly-naked cricket players are really something else. He was still a bit sweaty from moving the firetruck, and a bit quieter than his teammates, a bit easier to get away from the pack. Not that I’d tried! But not that I was complaining.   


One of the best backsides in the bunch, which was clear from the photo I’d taken.

“Yeah,” he said. “New aeroplane rule. Everyone needs to take a seat.” He pat his knee.  


“That’s not really what we here at MJN Air call appropriate,” I said with a bit of a giggle.   


“Well, can the winner get a kiss at least?” Cheering from a few of his teammates. I went red; I know I went red.

Sure. A soft kiss, not very claimy. Nice. I rested a hand on his shoulder. “I guess it’s only fair,” I murmured after we were done. I looked at him.

“That pilot won,” the closest teammate said, nudging Jack, “really, so, that doesn’t make any sense.”  


“Oi!” he nudged back.   


“I think I will have a seat, actually, now that you’ve mentioned it!” I agreed and then I yelped slightly as he helped spin me around and sit me on his knee. “Temporarily,” I added. I was still stewarding. 

I was also avoiding thinking about who really won.  


“You ever kiss that pilot?” Jack’s teammate teased from the side of me, as I sat on Jack.  


“Whoa, Tiger. That would be the most inappropriate of all!” I said quickly. “He’s even married.” Another cheer, that got. They cheered at most things a bit naughty. And called themselves things like Tiger.

I remembered Douglas calling me brilliant for my plan, and tried hard to not remember as I remembered. “He’s good at everything,” I muttered. “He wins all the games, even the silly ones between the pilots. Today, I had a good plan, though. I really did.”

“Hey, More Beer,” Jack teased, and I turned slightly to see his face. “You’re not paying attention to me.”  


“No, I’m not,” I agreed. I did smile a bit, though, and let him have another peck before I got up to be stewardy again, feeling a rush of heat. It wore off by the time the others started to teasingly ask me for kisses too. I was all kissed out, and they didn’t mean it much. I hoped word wouldn’t get back to Mum.  



	5. Edinburgh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes guys think you should treat girls just really differently than you treat guys.

I don't mind, really, that Douglas tries to get one over on me, especially when he wants to blow off steam. Mister B can be very annoying.

I’m easy to get one over on, and he’d never put me in any real danger or even try to hurt my feelings. I mess up all the time and he lets me, so it’s kind of fair.

What I think a lot of guys could benefit from, if you get down to it, is treating girls and guys like we’re all the same. I mean, not exactly, but definitely not that very different. That’s why I’m in pony club; cause I don’t care. And that’s why girls are drawn to me.

They’re drawn to Douglas, still. I get it. He’s really smart and confident. I think maybe he’d have an easier time being married if he didn’t have this way of distancing himself from himself and women. He’s been married to three and might have a better time playing more pranks on them. It’s sort of his way of showing he cares, at times, that he’s interested.

I run back inside to check on the miniatures for Mum. I hope I haven’t lost Mister B his Talisker again. 

Not that it ever matters, in the end. And I do like that Douglas takes it from him.


	6. Fitton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One pound is a low, low price for an aeroplane. Throw in the debts, though....

Strange, to think Arthur had cracked the code of not just true cheeriness, but happiness as well. He spends the flight not touching anything, naturally, but he’s glad to be up front and glad to be playing captain. 

How would he have done, had he tested? Likely not well. His lack of knowledge of any of the safety procedures is legendary. But he does like to travel, and, what’s more, he likes to be on a plane. Do what you love, and life’s not so bad.

“Dad offered to buy GERT-I again.” 

“Oh?” I said with actual interest, shaken from the line of thought of my anniversary plans. “How much, then?”

“It was a hundred pounds.”

An easy correction. “A hundred thousand.”

He shook his head. “No. Definitely not. I really checked. A hundred. And, then....”

“Then?”

“It was one.”

“I see.”

“And the debts gone.”

“I _see_.” Interesting. Hard to pass up entirely.

“Mum asked me what I thought, though, and,” he let out his breath in a sigh. “If you were me, and got to...to go places and just...be in a plane—well,” he reconsidered. “Clearly, you do.”

“I think I get your point, Arthur. Debts, practicality, that has its place. Sometimes, you’ve just got to fly.” Job secure, then, for now.

“Yeah,” he said, staring out ahead at the sky. “Sometimes you’ve just got to fly.”

I hesitated. Then, “ _Come fly with me, we’ll fly, we’ll fly away,_ ” I began.


	7. Gdansk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's not so bad to lose.

“I reckon you let Skip have that one, didn’t you, Douglas?”

“I reckon I did.” 

Of course. Before he left, I paused and fished a tenner out of my pocket. “Here,” I said, handing it over fair and square.

“And what lesson have we learned?” Mock seriousness.

“Don’t bet against Douglas Richardson. Unless he lets you win.”

“Precisely.”

Funny, cause I usually have a lot of luck, in my own way. And attitude helps. But, if I had his skill and his style and his brains, that’d help too.


	8. Helsinki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can fit 20 cigarettes into a fishcake. You should probably try for less, but that's Arthur for you.

When he threw his arms around me over a fishcake, I recognized I’d done quite a bit to help his helter-skelter, twinkly flight go off a bit better than planned. “You’re welcome,” I said. 

I wouldn’t have tried to unite my family like that. It took a lot of misplaced bravery, and a heart that was not only big but also very open about it.

He pulled away from the embrace, but his hand gripped my shoulder for a second with a sudden seriousness on the way out. “Douglas.”

“What?”

“Candles,” he said with gravity.

I chuckled. 


End file.
